


Wicked Witchy Winsome One

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Butterfly Bog AU, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Human AU, Kids, Makeup Is Fun, Romance, butterfly bog, daycare AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4500837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kids make frank observations. They also make flower crowns. Simple, fluffy little drabble for Modern!Bog and Marianne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Witchy Winsome One

“Why do you paint your eyes  _purple?”_

 Surprised, Marianne blinked at the little child, who blinked back in return, her large grey-green eyes guileless in their curiosity.

“Um, I…I just like to.” Marianne offered, feeling once again the keen difference between her and Dawn – or  _Miss Dawn_ , as she was known in the small little classroom where she ruled, the walls bedecked in arts and crafts and other signs of tiny hands hard at work. 

Her dark, plum streaked hair with its rock-star glamour seemed even more mussed compared to Dawn’s tidy golden coif, pinned back with flowers. Her boots were heavy and clunky compared to her sister’s dainty little flats, all too ready to trip her up if the kids got under foot.

And, of course, there was her makeup, dark and smoky and plumy compared to Dawn’s fresh face, with her bright eyes and pink lips, glossed and stretched in a grin that seemed to be a beacon for all the little kids in her sister’s charge. 

Marianne huddled in the small chair at the little picnic table – God, it was almost embarrassing how easy it was for her to sit at one of these, though Sunny still had her beat – once more thankful for the shade on a day like today, where the very sunshine seemed to steam against ones skin.

The kids were already making short work of the popsicles Dawn and Sunny were handing out, and Marianne had already forsaken her leather jacket – fashion only went so far in this kind of heat – and shrugged a bare shoulder at the tiny little sprite across from her. Cute kid, with her big eyes and porcelain skin and long swath of white-gold hair tumbling in messy curls down her back.  _Man,_  did she remind her of Dawn at that age. “I like to paint my face, you know? It’s fun.”

“You look,” the little pixie said suddenly, her eyes screwed up in thought, “like a beautiful witch.”

Marianne’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped, but a grin quickly stole across her lips.  _Hell of a compliment -_   

“Isn’t she just?”

Both of them turned at the sound of the familiar brogue, sly and amused. Marianne rolled her eyes while the tiny little girl brightened. “Mister Boggy!”

_“Bog,”_  he said, as he always did, before reaching out a large, rough hand to tousle her silky white gold hair. “How you doin’, sprog?”

The little girl giggled. “Miss Dawn calls you Boggy –“

“Miss Dawn is a very silly wee thing at times,” Bog said dryly, and Marianne snorted. He was one to talk – all of them were practically melting in the heat, and of  _course_  he was still sticking to his leather jacket. Though the kids were endlessly curious about the tattoos that climbed his arms, and would pepper him incessantly with questions about them, and then they’d never leave the daycare – 

His stubbornness wasn’t the only thing that made her shoot a sly grin at him. “Nice crown.”

He smirked back at her, tugging at one of the dangling vines that wove around his head in a circlet of morning glories and bluebells and clovers and whatever else the kids had managed to scrounge up. “I’m the King,” Bog explained, his blue eyes sly. “Ordained by your sisters’ charges. They were quite insistent I wear it.”

Marianne bit back a giggle. God, here was this scruffy, stubbly beanpole, tattooed and scarred and roughed up and looking like pure Trouble, and he was the absolute  _favorite_  of her sister’s students to come and visit them. The number of times she had walked out of the daycare to find him pushing them on the swings or letting them climb over him or snarling and chasing after them as the Dragon –

“He’s good with kids,” Dawn had said approvingly, and Marianne had determinedly ignored the knowing look her sister had shot her.  _So what if he was?_

So what indeed…

Marianne concentrated and sent a mock woeful look at her young friend. “I don’t think  _I_ was given a crown –“

“We can make you one,” the little girl chirped. “We can make you his Queen!”

Marianne prayed that her flush at that would be taken as a result of the heat, but Bog barked out a laugh. “Nah, sprog, she’s a witch, remember? You said so yourself.”

The little girl shot a curious look at Marianne. “What kind of witch are you then, Miss Marianne?” She narrowed her eyes at her, her tiny little features scrunched. “Are you wicked?”

Marianne smiled at her, but her eyes were on Bog when she replied. “Only when I  _want_ to be.”  

And oh,  _God,_  they were both  _so_  horrible to be doing this right  _now_ , right _here,_  blatantly flirting in front of minors, they were so _bad_ , the heat was totally getting to them –

Bog grinned slow and sly and sharp at her, hungry meaning behind his teeth, before giving a gentlemanly bow to the little girl. “If you’ll pardon us, love, I need to take this witchy one home. How’s about you get yourself something to cool down with from Sunny?”

They watched her scamper off, and Marianne stood up and let herself sink against him with a tired sigh. “I cannot  _wait_  till Fall is here. Cooler weather, still lots of sunshine…”

Bog hummed in agreement. “Best season, best holidays.” He shot her a grin. “I guess we know what  _you’ll_  be going as for Samhain –“

Marianne rolled her eyes at him, the dark shadowed purple glimmering in the shifting light under the leaves. “So, you prefer a Witch to a Fairy, huh? Maybe you can be a Warlock. Or  _maybe_  I’ll make you my familiar – “

“Which ever ye choose,” Bog murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her damp brow, the vines of his crown brushing her face, “ye’ll be a wicked one.”

Marianne tugged at a vine before pulling him into a kiss, her amber eyes golden and bright with both mischief and happiness as they sunk closed.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my own conversations with the kids at my daycare. They love to talk about my jewelry and my makeup and my fashion choices. The little girl’s comments in this are a verbatim quote of what one little gal said to me one day. 
> 
> Also, is it too obvious that I am craving Fall? ‘Cause I’m seriously craving Fall…


End file.
